


Anticipation

by inqwex



Category: Station 19 (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Theme Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-01
Updated: 2019-03-07
Packaged: 2019-11-07 20:16:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17967323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inqwex/pseuds/inqwex
Summary: For the theme week in advance of the resumption of Season 2 next week!Day 1: Sizzle - Four Ways Vic Almost Spilled the Beans (And One Way Lucas Did)Day 2: Ember - Chess (Pruitt & Sullivan)Day 3: Flashover - Together Apart (Claire, Lucas, and Laura)Day 4: Afterburn - Seat Theft (Victoria/Lucas)Day 5: Fusion - We're All Going To Hell (Team)Day 6: Author's Choice - Consequences (Travis & Victoria, Victoria/Lucas)Day 7: TGIT - Meredith Grey's Agony Aunt Session (Meredith & Lucas friendship)





	1. Four Ways Vic Almost Spilled the Beans (And One Way Lucas Did)

 

**I:**

“Hang on, I took a photo,” Vic said, opening the photos app on her phone. As she did, she felt her stomach drop.

She and Lucas had gone camping. She’d taken a few photos while they were there, and at least one had him in it, a photo of him she’d snapped on a whim as they’d had dinner.

[She didn’t normally take photos of him, of them, in fact, she thought this might be the first one. But something about how warmly he had smiled at her, wearing a soft sweater (and she knew it was soft because she often stole it) and how his hand wrapped around a plastic travel wine cup had made her want to immortalise the moment for herself]. It’s just clearly a photo she should not have of the Fire Chief.

And now it’s on her phone. With Travis leaning in.

So all she could do was immediately start to swipe up, away from the incriminating photos.

Travis, fortunately, didn’t seem to notice.

 

**II:**

The guy leaning in to her at the bar was unquestionably hot.

And, before Lucas, would have been exactly her type.

But even if they’re not exactly dating; really, they’re more casual than that, Vic doesn’t want to …well, it felt a like cheating.

[Which it wasn’t, exactly, because they hadn’t really defined what they were].

Anyway. She was not interested anyway, chiefly because this guy was not Lucas. So she brushed him off and turned right into the raised eyebrows and confused expressions of her friends.

“And you don’t want to hit _that_ one because…?” Maya asked sarcastically.

“Is everything okay, Vic?” Andy asked in the same breath.

“What do you mean?” Vic asked, fiddling with the straw on her cocktail.

“Like, you haven’t picked anyone up for a _while_ ,” Andy said pointedly.

“I can’t just want a bit of a break?” Vic asked defensively.

“Is everything okay? Did something happen?” Andy pressed.

Vic took a deep breath. “Everything’s fine. I just want to spend some time focusing on myself.”

 

**III:**

_Sorry – the girls want to see a movie then too. Can we catch up for dinner ? xx_

Vic cursed as the message sent – to Herrera and Bishop.

Not to Lucas.

Still, it wasn’t too incriminating.

 _Wrong thread sorry_. _See you tomorrow lunchtime_ , Vic texted hastily, hoping for no further questions.

 _Who was that for?_ Andy replied immediately.

 _A friend of mine is in town_ , Vic lied. Three dots appeared, then disappeared.

She was unsurprised to meet curious looks at the movie.

 

**IV:**

It had been ages since the girls had come around, and Vic had nervously double checked her flat, trying to remove every trace of Lucas she could. She’d put her toothbrush holder inside the bathroom cabinet to hide his toothbrush, she’d stashed his books in the top drawer of his bedside table, his shoes had gone in the hall closet and his sweatshirt that she used was in her drawer.

He had … a lot of things at hers. She didn’t have to hide his clothes (half his wardrobe had migrated over) because they were already hung in her cupboard.

The little voice in the back of her mind said that she really needed to think about this – they had well and truly moved past the point of casual sex. Like she had so often over the last few months, she squashed that voice down.

“Can I have coffee?” Andy asked, already opening the cupboard and pulling out mugs.

“Of course – but that’s Lucas’ mug,” Vic said thoughtlessly, reaching out to grab the mug that _he_ used to exchange it for a more generic one.

“ _Lucas_?” Vic winced as Maya drew his name out. “Who is _Lucas_?”

Vic sighed.

“He’s…I’ve been seeing this guy,” there was no point dissembling around this, she figured.

“We figured,” Maya said drily.

There was a long pause.

“Well, who is he?” Andy asked, folding her arms over.

There was another awkward pause as Vic tried to work out how to answer.

“Is he married, Vic?” Maya’s question was surprisingly gentle. “Is that why you’re trying to hide him?”

“It’s complicated,” Vic said, cursing the flush that was spreading up her neck onto her face, but unable to think of a way to explain it.

Maya seemed to take that as confirmation.

“Victoria,” she said, disapproval thick in her tone.

“Don’t, please,” Vic held her hand up. “Look. It’s … it’s not the smartest idea I’ve ever had but he’s really great and at the moment it’s fun and casual.”

“It’s casual?” Andy said pointedly. “Yet he has a particular mug?”

Vic winced. “Please. You guys are my friends –”

“Exactly, talk to us!” Maya exclaimed.

“I really just need you to not ask about it while I try and work out what … what I’m doing,” Vic said desperately.

“You can talk to us at any point,” Andy said, more gently.

“Thanks,” Vic said. “If I need to, I will.” The girls didn’t look happy, but they backed off.

 

**V:**

Her head was throbbing, and Vic felt kind of nauseated.

It served her right for taking off her helmet even temporarily – although even Sullivan had had to agree (after yelling at her for a bit) that it had been mostly bad luck that had a branch fall off a nearby tree and fall on her head. And it was unrelated to the scene they’d been called to – a shopping strip in flames.

The scene had been pretty much contained when it had happened, and after yelling at her, Sullivan had rolled his eyes and sent her with Travis and Maya to the hospital in the aid car with a victim with moderate burns.

Travis had just stepped away to get her a bottle of water as she waited to be seen while Maya was checking in their patient.

“Victoria,” a familiar voice sounded across the room, and she looked up to see a worried-looking Lucas. “You okay?”

“I’m fine, it’s just going to need some stitches,” she said, a little confused as he raced over, kneeling in front of her. “What are you doing here?”

“I was watching the news,” his voice was oddly thick, and his eyes ran over her, clearly checking for injuries. He reached out to touch the cut on her forehead that thankfully had stopped dripping underneath the pressure bandage Travis had applied. “They said that a firefighter from station 19 had been taken to hospital with a head injury. You didn’t answer your phone – I was so worried.”

“I’m fine, Luke,” she said, reassuringly, unsure what to make of the … well, in anyone else, she would have called it a panicked tone of voice.

But this was Lucas Ripley. Her dependable, calm, sensible, stolid Fire Chief.

“And all I could think was that if you were seriously hurt nobody would call me,” he said, looking away.

“So you raced over to the hospital?” she still couldn’t get her head around it.

“I was so scared,” he admitted quietly, and Vic felt her heart stop for a moment as his blue, red-rimmed eyes met hers.

“I’m okay,” she said gently, reaching out to touch his cheek.

“I love you,” he blurted. “I know you don’t want to hear it but I love you. If something happened to you…“

She didn’t know what to say to that. Words were not her strong suit, and so she just leaned forward and kissed him.

It was like he’d been waiting for that invitation, and she found herself being half pulled off the chair into his arms as he wrapped them around her and kissed her firmly, desperately back.

They finally drew apart, breathless.

“What the hell?” came a loud voice from behind Lucas, and Vic winced as she saw Maya and Travis, arms folded, glaring at the two of them. 

“I think the cat might be out of the bag,” Vic said with a wince, wondering how long they'd been there, looking at Lucas.

“I’m so sorry,” he replied, not turning around.

There was a pause, before Vic said, “actually, I think it’ll be okay. We can do this.”

[He would never look quite so beautiful as he did in that moment, all hopeful and delighted and loving].


	2. Chess

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 2 - Ember - Friendship.

Pruitt wasn’t quite sure how this became a regular thing. He knew _when_ it became a thing, but not why or how.

He’d visited Andy, of course, in the hospital. Sullivan had been in a room across the hall, and he’d ended up wandering in to say hello to the younger man.

It had become a daily occurrence. Initially, they just exchanged brief greetings, and Sullivan would politely inquire about Andrea like he didn’t see or talk to her outside of Pruitt’s visits.

Then, on the third or fourth day, Pruitt had mentioned how 19 was going along with the interim captain. [He’d been a little surprised Ripley hadn’t just done it himself, given the Chief had captained 19 before Sullivan starting, and things had seemed to go well then. Still, Ripley must be busy with all the damage caused by the storm, so he guessed he understood].

He had to hand it to Sullivan – awkward though the other man might be, he clearly cares about doing a good job and he asks keen questions about the team.

“Is Montgomery stepping up?” he wanted to know. “I think he needs to be pushed more.”

“I agree now,” Pruitt said, settling more comfortably in the chair. “I went easy on him after his husband died, but I think he’s ready to move forward career wise.”

Sullivan grunted his agreement. “It’s also hard because you’ve got Gibson, your daughter, and Bishop all trying to be in charge. They’re like a bunch of loose cannons, especially Gibson at the moment.”

Pruitt hesitated, but the other man was Gibson’s captain…

“I’m worried about Jack,” he said abruptly. “I think he’s taken the skyscraper fire hard.”

Sullivan’s eyes are sharp, and there’s a brief pause. “You were in New York, right?”

“Yes,” Pruitt said simply.

“I know a lot of people who were. They say it’s like a small part of them is forever in New York,” Sullivan said slowly. “At least, that’s how it’s been described to me.”

“That’s a neat turn of phrase,” Pruitt acknowledged. “It’s probably true.”

“You think Gibson’s in the skyscraper?” Pruitt nodded to that question minutely.

“Ripley’s talked to him,” he said, watching as the younger man’s expression pinches a little. “What happened? The two of you were thick as thieves.”

“My wife died,” Sullivan said sharply.

Pruitt sighed heavily. “This can’t seriously be about him sending you to a different patient,” he said.

“She was my wife. He had no right – and he gave her amiodarone in the aid car when I told him she was allergic to iodine,” Sullivan’s voice rose.

“Your wife was dead, man,” Pruitt said forcefully. “Your friend took all the responsibility on himself so you had someone else to blame.” There was a pause, and he watched the younger man visibly fighting to control his anger. “If he hadn’t given the amiodarone, and she died anyway, would you be glad or upset that you had stopped him doing something any other patient would have received?”

Sullivan said nothing.

“What did the inquest finding show?” Pruitt let his voice soften.

[He knew the answer, but he wanted Sullivan to say it].

“Her aorta –” Sullivan swallowed hard. “It was ruptured.”

“You know as well as I do nothing he did, or you did, or anyone else could do would have made a difference,” Pruitt said. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Robert.”

He left before the younger man could say a word.

The next morning he walked in with a chessboard under one arm.

“You play chess, Sullivan?” he asked, setting up the board briskly.

“Not well,” came the confused reply.

“Excellent.”

They didn’t mention Claire again, although Sullivan took care to mention that Ripley was dropping by every two or three nights to say hello and check on his progress.

Andy was ready for discharge long before Sullivan would be, and so on that day, he reversed his usual order and visited Sullivan first instead (he was somewhat proud that Sullivan had managed to win that day’s chess game; the younger man had improved dramatically).

“Thank you for visiting, Captain Herrera,” Sullivan said with a note of finality as Pruitt packed away the chessboard.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Captain Sullivan,” Pruitt replied.


	3. Together Apart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 - Flashover - Claire and Lucas and Laura

“All right, out with it,” there’s a swish of material as a warm presence sits beside him on the step.

“Out with –” the denial dies in his throat as he glances up at her. Her expression is patient, but unyielding and Lucas knows that she’s not going to let him fob her off. It doesn’t stop him trying. “I just needed some air.”

The Sullivans have thrown one of their wild dinner parties. Lucas struggles at the best of times in a large crowd, and tonight it all felt too cloying, so he’d slipped away for a moment – it’s not entirely untrue to say he needed the air.

“Right,” Claire’s obviously unconvinced. “Lucas, you haven’t been yourself lately.”

“Since I got married?” Lucas asks darkly, returning to worrying the beer bottle label with his fingernail.

“Neither’s Laura,” Claire’s voice is sharp. “Who hasn’t come with you tonight.”

“Astute observation,” Lucas mock-toasts.

“She’s told me you have nightmares,” Claire probes gently.

“So does she,” Lucas deflects.

“You two have been married for months,” Claire states. “And you’ve not seemed happy at any point.”

“We’re angry with each other,” Lucas admits. “It’s hardly a great way to start a marriage.”

“And the two of you continuing to not talk about it has put a giant elephant in the room that’s suffocating said marriage,” Claire says pointedly. Lucas raises an eyebrow at her. “Not my best metaphor, okay.”

“What’s there to talk about?” Lucas sighs. “She doesn’t want me to be a firefighter.”

“I’m surprised you still do after 9/11,” Claire says, more than a hint of question laced through her tone. “And don’t pretend you haven’t been having flashbacks to me, Luke, I saw you earlier when Bobby opened the champagne.”

“I’m fine,” Lucas growls. “It’ll fade.” He hopes.

“So that’s it?” Claire asks, considering the man hunched over next to her for a moment. “You’re just going to live like this?”

“No, I think we’re going to end up divorced,” for the first time, Lucas shows real distress.

“You love her, right?” Claire asks.

“Of course,” the answer’s immediate. “And I know she loves me. But she doesn’t love my job, and I can’t see us getting past it. I can’t do anything else. I’ve thought about it. But firefighting is what I want, what I’ve always wanted. When I’m at work, I feel alive. I feel _worthwhile_.”

“You want that more than your wife?”

“Hey, I wouldn’t ask her to give up what she loves for me,” Lucas snaps, and Claire can’t help but recoil a little at the anger flashing in his eyes. “Sorry, Claire. But it’s who I am. Who I want to be.”

“I just hate to see you both so unhappy, Luke,” Claire says. She hesitates, wetting her lips, before broaching the next subject. “Have you thought about counselling?”

“Marriage counselling?” Lucas snorts. “We’re barely three months into our marriage.”

“No, trauma counselling,” she presses. He looks at her in surprise. “Lucas, I don’t need the years I spent at college studying psychology to know that you both have PTSD.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” he repeats.

“Lucas,” she snaps, and winces internally when she sees him flinch. She modulates her tone, “Luke, there’s nothing wrong with you. Or with Laura. There’d be something wrong with you if you _weren’t_ affected by this. I think our entire nation is traumatised. There’s nothing wrong with going and talking to someone and seeking help.”

“What, talk about my feelings?” Lucas sounds dubious, but at least he seems to be entertaining the idea which is more than she thought she’d get.

“Talk about what you’ll do when you get the cold sweat, and the racing heart, and the inability to breathe, and the nightmares,” Claire agrees. “And work on helping you sleep. Bobby says you’re up all hours at work.”

“There’s stuff to do,” Lucas says defensively.

“There’s sleep to be had,” Claire retorts. She hands him a piece of paper. “You’ll like Henry. Call him, please. For Laura, if not yourself.”

* * *

They give it a full eighteen months.

Lucas feels he’s doing a lot better – knows he’s doing a lot better. He doesn’t get the nightmares so much anymore, and he feels comfortable and calm at work, not hyped up like he was when he first got back from New York. He sees Henry only monthly now, not weekly.

He’s gone to relationship counselling with Laura. When he’s at work, he texts her before she goes to sleep and when she wakes up (and once in the middle of the shift for good measure).

But he suspects it’s been for nothing, as he stands at the sink one cold winter’s night. He’d had a nightmare. Henry thinks it’s a good sign that his nightmares have become more abstract and settled into the same one – for it is always the same now. He doesn’t have the flashback-nightmares of being trapped in the stairwell anymore.

 _He’s walking down the street in Manhattan. It’s like there’s a mist all around him. The sounds are muted; there’s always a hollow boom. He’s just walking, walking past people lying under rubble. Their calls are muted, and in the way that you simply_ know _things in dreams he knows that under the rubble is his wife, and his mother, and his sisters, and his brother, and Bobby, and Claire. And he’s just walking, compelled down an endless road towards the towers which never get any closer despite the fact that there are people he could help, people dying under the rubble because he isn’t helping._

He drains his glass again, setting it neatly to one side of the sink.

“It’s been a while since you’ve had the nightmare,” Laura’s voice behind him startles him, and he jumps, heart stuttering in his chest. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Yeah,” Lucas grunts. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t,” she admits, drawing her dressing gown closer around herself. “I couldn’t sleep.”

There’s a long pause.

“I think this is as good as I’ll ever get,” Lucas says eventually. “I don’t think this nightmare will ever go away.”

“You’ve never told me what happens in it, you know,” Laura says, coming to lean against the opposite kitchen bench to him.

“Sure I have,” Lucas furrows his brow.

“No, babe, you haven’t,” Laura says firmly. “Don’t you think that’s odd?”

“There’s not much to it, really,” Lucas says with a shrug, deliberately avoiding the second question. “The nightmares were initially more like flashbacks, just what happened. Now it’s just me, walking towards the towers, past people under the rubble.” He leaves out who’s under the rubble, but takes a breath. He and Henry have talked about the next part of it, and he knows it’s relevant to Laura. And he suspects it will end his marriage. “And I could save them if I didn’t keep walking.”

Laura’s eyes fill with tears. “My nightmare is that you don’t keep walking,” she says softly. “You ran away from me, towards an exploding, burning building.”

“It was an exceptional circumstance,” Lucas says in the same tone of voice.

“No, it wasn’t, because that’s your job,” she half-sobs. “Lucas, that’s your _job_.”

“So we’re just trapped in our own, separate, opposite nightmares,” Lucas says bitterly, waving his hand in a circle to encompass them.

She nods, but says nothing.

There’s a long silence.

“Well, go on then,” Lucas is surprised to hear himself sounding choked up.

“I’m not going to ask you to give up your job, Luke,” tears are rolling down Laura’s face. “I can’t bear to hear you say no. No – don’t – please don’t say anything. Just answer this: do you love me?”

“Of course.”

“If I asked you to, and you did, which I don’t think you would –” she holds up a hand as he goes to speak, “no, don’t, I don’t want to know whether you would. But you would hate me, eventually. And I can’t bear that. I love you, but your job is my nightmare and you _not_ doing your job is yours.”

Lucas’ gaze drops to the floor, ashamed of the relief that he feels flooding through him. To tell the truth,  _he's_ not sure what he would have done if she'd asked him.

“So that’s that,” he says quietly. “Our marriage is over?”

“It’s been over for a while, and you know that as well as I,” Laura sighs. “I do love you though.”

“I love you too,” he reaches for her, pressing a firm but chaste kiss to her lips and folds his arms around her. She sobs into his chest, soaking his singlet.

He’s _hurting_ and so is she and there’s no way out of this nightmare they’ve created together.

 


	4. Seat Theft

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4: Afterburn - Lucas & Victoria  
> Short and sweet ;)

Vic stops, narrowing her eyes as she arrives back at the table from the bathroom. She’s too slow to steal Maya’s seat as the other woman ducks right past her.

“You’re a seat thief, Lucas Ripley,” she accuses good naturedly, prodding at his shoulder with her fingertips, before slipping between him and Travis and planting herself on his lap. She twists sideways to wrap an arm around his shoulders, glancing down to check whether he’s okay with this level of PDA.

“Yes, and it’s clearly working terribly for him,” Travis says drily. The whole table laughs, and Lucas blushes a little but loops his arm around her waist, glancing quickly over at Sullivan who’s sitting next to them. Vic follows Lucas’ eyeline but Sullivan simply rolls his eyes theatrically.

Vic’s a little surprised at how quickly the conversation flows on, as if her planting herself in Luke’s lap was a normal occurrence.

Still, on the other hand, everyone’s known about them for almost six months now, and the dinner part of the ball has definitely moved into the drinking and intermittent dancing part of the ball.

So they’re all pretty drunk.

Still, she waits for a few more moments before saying quietly to Lucas, “is this okay?”

He smiles crookedly up at her, stroking her waist with his thumb. “Yeah,” he says. She watches his eyes dart around a little and his voice drops so that she has to crane in to hear him properly. “Just please don’t squirm around too much.”

She tries not to smirk, but suspects she’s failing. “I won’t make it hard on you, don’t worry,” she assures him with a wink in an equally low tone.

Lucas groans, turning his head against her shoulder, his stubble rubbing her bare arm as he laughs. “Victoria,” he chides through chuckles.

She simply grins back, leans down, and steals a brief kiss.


	5. We're Going To Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you are not old enough to play Cards Against Humanity, you are not old enough to read this chapter.  
> If you do not like Cards Against Humanity and find it offensive, you probably won't like this chapter.  
> Team. Hinted Hughes/Ripley.

“Dear Sir or Madam, we regret to inform you that the office of blank has denied your request for blank,” Maya read. She put the card on the table, and immediately closed her eyes, bringing her drink to her lips somewhat unsteadily.

It was a rare night for them _all_ to gather in one spot off-duty. To everyone’s surprise, Dean had volunteered to host a party when Andy had been released from hospital after the storm – and so the original crew were all there.

(Minus, obviously, Captains Herrera and Sullivan).

Dinner and drinks had been followed by more drinks and now they were partway through a rousing game of Cards Against Humanity. Warren had had to have the game explained to him, and while initially had been a little taken aback at how foul some of the cards were, was now running a close second to Vic.

[“We have an agreement, by the way,” Vic had said to him at the start of the game. “If you don’t know what a card means…nobody will explain it.”

“Vic’s still scarred by me defining Fleshlight for her,” Travis smirked.

“You did not need to be quite so _graphic_ about what that was!” Vic had protested].

“Okay, we’re done,” said Andy, giggling helplessly like she always did when particularly tipsy.

“Okay,” Maya picked up the white cards and shuffled them. “We regret to inform you that the office of – oh god - the Jews has denied your request for The Holocaust.”

“I mean, factually correct,” Gibson offered, half-wincing and half-laughing.

“We regret to inform you that the office of child beauty pageants has denied your request for full frontal nudity,” Maya choked over the end of the sentence as the room dissolved into groans.

“Also probably factually accurate,” Andy giggled.

“We regret to inform you that the office of feminism has denied your request for the glass ceiling, _truth_ ,” Maya cheered, immediately high-fiving Andy then reaching across to high-five Vic.

“Women,” Gibson rolled his eyes teasingly.

“Don’t get her started, Jack,” Miller hissed under his breath as Maya glared at Gibson.

“We regret to inform you that the office of the entire internet has denied your request for tentacle porn.”

“The internet is for porn!” Dean, Vic and Travis immediately started to sing.

“What the hell –?” Warren asked.

“Here on Avenue Q –“ the three of them sang.

“It’s a musical,” Maya explained. “We regret to inform you that the office of God has denied your request for parting the Red Sea.”

“See, most of the time that would be an awesome answer! But everyone else’s are so good!” Travis complained.

“Gee I wonder whose answer that was, Trav?” Vic teased.

“I never said that was me!” Travis said loudly.

“We regret to inform you that the office of poor life choices has denied your request for chainsaws for hands,” Maya read the last cards over the top of the two of them, relieved to interrupt their argument.

“That’s a … good? group of answers. And when I say good, I mean, we’re all going to hell,” Warren said, looking at them.

“Like, that’s a _good_ set of cards there,” Dean agreed. “Some nice social commentary jokes, a joke about porn, one about religion, one about paedophilia…”

“Well, Maya?” Andy prompted.

“Hmmm, well the beauty pageants one is funny in the absolute _worst_ way,” she mused. Catching Gibson starting to preen, she immediately went to her other top pick. “But nothing can go past feminism, right ladies?”

“Preach!” Andy hollered, spilling her beer on the floor. Dean winced, and immediately got up to get a paper towel from the kitchen. “Right, Vic?”

“Hmm,” Vic looked up over her phone. “Oh, right.”

“Who are you texting, young lady?” Travis nudged her shoulder.

“No one,” Vic’s face, already red from alcohol, went redder.

“Mr Man Blanket?” Maya waggled her eyebrows meaningfully.

“No, I’m done with him,” Vic said quickly.

“So this is a new guy,” Dean threw the paper towels at Andy, before joining in. “You know you’re gonna tell us eventually…”

“Who cares about Vic’s Mystery Guy – tell us who has won the goddamn hand,” Gibson said loudly, slapping the table.

There was a brief moment of awkward silence.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“I’m going with feminism,” Maya said. “Obviously.”

“Oh yeah, oh yeah, go Vic, go Vic,” the younger woman chanted as she triumphantly snatched up the card from the table, her phone having been tucked back into her jeans.

“Not Vic again,” Warren complained.

“She’s the best at this game,” Gibson complained. “How!?”

“You gotta save your cards for the right people,” Vic said off-handedly. Seeing the table turn to look at her, she shrugged. “It’s like, feminism or social commentary jokes with Bishop, ass and dick jokes for Gibson, sex jokes for Trav, Miller’s like a weird blend of twelve year old boy humour and social commentary, and then Warren’s like the _slightly_ risqué jokes.”

“And me?” Andy piped up.

“Hell, Herrera, when you’re this drunk pretty much any card will do,” Vic said drily. Andy pouted as the others laughed, but reached for the next card anyway.

“Test out that theory, Hughes, the first card in your hand,” Andy said, holding the black card so Vic couldn’t read it.

Vic laughed, but obligingly picked the card and placed it face down.

“This month’s Cosmo: “Spice up your sex life by bringing blank into the bedroom,” Andy read.

Vic choked on her drink, going red in the face. Travis pounded her on the back, looking quizzically at her.

“It’s just, my card actually kind of will work for this,” she said, once she’d recovered her breath. “But wait, let’s do the answers.”

“I’ve got shit cards now,” Dean complained, throwing one out. “Wait, Andy, shut your eyes!”

Andy obliged. When they were ready, she opened her eyes and shuffled the cards.

“Spice up your sex life by bringing alcoholism into the bedroom.”

“Spice up your sex life by bringing giving your boss a blow job into the bedroom.”

“Spice up your sex life by bringing the screams…the terrible screams…into the bedroom.”

“Spice up your sex life by bringing a-” Andy dissolved into giggles again, “bringing a mopey zoo lion into the bedroom.”

While Andy laughed her head off, the rest of them looked at Miller. “Dean, are your cards seriously that bad?!” Travis asked.

Dean nodded sadly.

“Throw them out,” Vic advised.

“Come on, Herrera, pull yourself together,” Maya nudged her friend’s shoulder. Still hiccoughing, Andy read off the next card.

“Spice up your sex life by bringing AIDS into the bedroom – oh god that’s dark.”

“Spice up your sex life by bringing a PowerPoint presentation into – okay, PowerPoint is a very useful medium to share information,” Andy argued with the card. Her team laughed at her.

“Okay, who won?”

“It’s not as good as last round,” Travis noted as Andy considered her options.

“I feel a lot of people used up their best cards,” Dean agreed glumly.

“Mopey zoo lion,” Andy cackled again. Dean looked embarrassed and almost ashamed as he picked up his prize.

“See, with Andy, often it’s the randomest card that wins,” Vic pointed out.

“Which one was yours, Vic?” Travis asked.

Vic blushed as she pointed to the ‘giving your boss a blow job’ card.

Jack choked on his drink.

“And then weirdly I remembered Grant’s thing with –”

“With Sullivan?” Dean finished Vic’s sentence for her.

“Wait, what!?” “What’s this?” Maya and Ben exclaimed simultaneously.

“Grant does not have a _thing_ with Sullivan,” Travis replied irritably.

“Travis is jeal-lous because Grant thinks Sullivan’s hot,” Vic sing-songed, earning herself a glare and a friendly shoulder shove.

“Objectively, dude is fine,” Dean said with a shrug.

“I mean, yeah,” Ben agreed, looking up from his cards to find himself the centre of attention. “What?”

“Let’s not unpack that,” Jack said slowly, picking up a black card. “Okay, ‘Blank; kid tested, mother approved.’ Do your worst, team.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Miller: answer one – The Jews; Holocaust. Answer two – a mopey zoo lion
> 
> Gibson: answer one – Child beauty pageants; full frontal nudity. Answer two – the screams…the terrible screams…
> 
> Hughes: answer one – Feminism; the glass ceiling. Answer two – giving your boss a blowjob
> 
> Warren: answer one – the entire internet; tentacle porn. Answer two – AIDS.
> 
> Montgomery: answer one – God; parting the red sea. Answer two – alcoholism
> 
> Herrera: Poor life choices; chainsaws for hands
> 
> Bishop: a PowerPoint presentation


	6. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Travis & Vic friendship, Vic/Lucas relationship, implied Travis/Grant relationship.

“Travis!” Vic sounded surprised as she opened the door.

That was to be expected, after all, he hadn’t exactly called or texted or anything.

“I need your advice,” he said, pushing past her.

“Travis –“ Vic tried to interrupt, but Travis needed to get this off his chest.

“Should I stop wearing my ring?” he asked, fiddling with it anxiously.

Vic’s mouth fell open and suddenly the room went silent.

Apart from her shower, which he could hear running next door.

“Do you…have someone here…?” he asked slowly. He was answered by a slow blush. “Oh.”

There was an awkward pause.

“When did you even pick him up?” Travis asked, trying to sound non-judgemental. They’d only gotten off shift that morning. Vic opened her mouth, closed it again, and opened it again, looking unsure of what to say – uncharacteristically for her. Travis frowned, opened his mouth, then stopped as he took in her apartment.

It’d been a while since he’d come over.  When they hung out together outside work it was usually out or at his. And on looking around, this didn’t seem to be exclusively Vic’s space anymore. There was a pair of workboots and another pair of sneakers in the pile of shoes that were clearly too big for her; an extra coat hung on a peg in the hall that was a man’s coat. Two laptops were sitting on the kitchen table, both plugged in. And Vic was wearing an oversized sweater that he didn't think was hers.

“Wait, this isn’t just some guy you’ve picked up,” he said slowly.

“Travis,” Vic said, almost pleadingly.

“Who is he?” it was weird, how numb and shocked he felt.

“No one,” Vic said, clearly trying to lie. “No one important.”

“You know, that’s what I’ve been saying to the others at the station,” Travis said bitterly. “They’ve been saying that you’ve been seeing someone, and I kept saying that if you were I’d know. If he’s not important, then who is he and why is his stuff all through your apartment?”

“It’s not, he’s, it’s complicated,” she said, looking pleadingly at him. “Please, Travis, can we just talk about you?”

He stared at her for a moment. “We’re friends,” he said, waving his hand back and forth between them. “I’m here to talk to you about a really difficult thing for me – and you can’t even tell me who the guy naked in your bathroom is! What happened to bros before hoes?”

There was another pause, and Travis watched as Vic’s face cycled through emotions. Vaguely he heard the shower turn off.

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course,” to his relief, she answered immediately. “But this isn’t just about me.”

“Is he married? What?”

“Travis, please,” she sighed, shoulders slumping. “Let me talk to him, first.”

She didn’t wait for a reply, and instead headed towards her bedroom, easing the door open just enough for her to slip through, but not enough for Travis to look inside.

He heard the murmur of low voices, and kicked his shoes off in the hallway, feeling somewhat pettily satisfied when one of the Mystery Guy’s boots fell over.

Travis stared at the ceiling.

“Screw this,” he muttered to himself, and marched over to Vic’s bedroom, opening the door. “Seriously, Vic, I don’t see why this has to be such a discussion – oh.”

For standing in her room, obviously having been caught between Vic’s ensuite and her dresser, was Chief Ripley wearing only a towel around his hips.

“Montgomery,” The older man greeted him with a surprising level of dignity for someone caught with his pants down – literally.

“What the hell, Vic?” Travis was aiming for surprised, felt angry, and ended up sounding confused.

“Oh god,” Vic’s hand flew to her head and she sat abruptly on the edge of her bed, folding her head in her hands. “Oh god.”

“Breathe, Victoria,” Ripley’s voice was gentle, and Travis watched as he knelt down in front of her – seemingly unbothered by his state of undress – and rested his hands on her knees. “It’s okay.”

“How can you say that?” Vic’s voice was muffled. “Travis knows.”

“It’s not the end of the world,” Ripley’s voice took on an odd edge that Travis wasn’t quite sure how to interpret.

“What happens now?” she asked, rubbing her face and bringing her hands down.

“I get dressed,” Ripley said dryly, and Vic gave him a weak smile in return. “Talk to Montgomery.”

Travis watched as he got up, and walked to Vic’s dresser without making eye contact, pulling open a drawer unerringly and grabbing a shirt and a pair of trackpants before heading back to the ensuite. As the ensuite door clicked closed behind him, Travis looked back at Vic, still sitting on the edge of her bed, looking a little helpless.

“He’s got his own drawer?” oddly, that’s what came out of his mouth first. Vic shrugged.

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” she said in a small voice.

“What – _when_?” Vic winced at his stuttered question.

“Nearly five months,” she replied, dropping her gaze.

“ _Five_ months?!” he spluttered. “And you didn’t tell me?!”

“What was I supposed to say?” she asked, looking up back at him. “Hi Travis, how was your weekend, mine was good, also I’m seeing Lucas Ripley, you may have heard of him?!”

“What are you thinking!?” he demanded, as the door to the ensuite clicked open again. In his peripheral vision he could see Ripley, wearing trackpants and a shirt now, leaning against the door jamb. Travis kept his gaze on Vic, who looked away again. “Career-wise –”

“This has _nothing_ to do with my career,” she hissed, interrupting vehemently, glaring at him. “How could you even - ?!”

“I’m not saying that,” Travis backpedalled quickly. “I’m saying have you thought about what happens if this gets out? Your career could be over – ”

“Which is partly why I haven’t told anyone!” she exclaimed.

“What did you think was going to happen? That you could just, what, sleep with him on the downlow indefinitely? That nobody was going to find out?!”

She looked down again. “I – look, I think you’re over-exaggerating –“

“OVER-EXAGGERATING?!” Travis yelled.

“Hey,” Ripley’s voice was sharp, and for the first time in the conversation Travis looked over at him. He’d abandoned his casual lean against the doorway, and was now standing upright, arms folded across his chest and looking stern. “No yelling.”

“I haven’t even started with you, _Chief_ ,” Travis snarled. The other man’s jaw twitched.

“You don’t get to yell at her,” he said. “Or at me for that matter. You can be angry, I get it, but you don’t get to yell.”

“It’s fine, Luke,” Vic said wearily, resting her head in her hands again.

“No it’s not,” he replied, again, with that odd note to his voice.

Travis sighed, feeling a little guilty at how Vic had flinched when he’d yelled. “I’m not over-exaggerating,” he repeated, more quietly, but aware that his anger was still bleeding through. “Let’s just, for the moment, set aside the fact that as a firefighter who stopped being a rookie like, a year ago, is dating the Chief of the department. Outside of that, Vic, there is a guy standing in your bedroom wearing trackpants and a t-shirt that he pulled from _his_ drawer in your dresser. You’ve been seeing him for five months. His crap is all over your apartment.” A thought occurred to him. “I’m hoping you have stuff at his, because if you don’t, my first question is going to be is he married?”

“No, he’s not married,” Vic said. “I don’t get involved with married guys.”

“Just with your boss,” he couldn’t help but needle.

“What’s your point, Travis?” she asked in exasperation.

“My point is: whether you intended to or not, you are in a relationship with him. If you’d come to me and told me you’d slept with him once, hell, even twice, but that it was over, fine, I wouldn’t say a word. But this? I can’t hide this for you. There’s so many ethical issues here – he’s responsible for disciplinary and promotional matters, he could be running a high risk scene and have to send you in, he might not rescue you with a RIT – or have you forgotten the skyscraper?”

She flinched, continuing to look down, and Travis noticed with some satisfaction that Ripley also looked down, shifting uncomfortably.

“You want me to just decide now, on the spot?” she asked the floor bitterly.

“You’ve had five months to think about this,” Travis replied incredulously. “How is this on the spot?”

“It’s not that simple,” she burst out. “We’ll have to go through HR. Lucas could lose his job. I could lose my job. It’ll mean days, weeks of interviews and the potential for bad press and –”

“See, this isn’t on the spot at all,” Travis interrupted. “You’ve clearly thought about it. But I can’t lie for you and say this is okay.” There was a pause. “While you think about that, I’m talking to him.”

He took a step towards Ripley, who was still standing with his arms folded in the doorway of the ensuite. Travis paused for a moment, struggling to work out the best thing to say.

“Give me one reason why I shouldn’t punch you in the face,” he settled upon, glaring at his boss. His boss’ boss’ boss.

“Travis, don’t,” Vic got up, moving to go between them.

“It’s okay, Victoria,” Ripley sighed, scrubbing at his beard. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” he said quietly.

“Something, anything,” Travis hissed. “Beyond ordering me around when I’ve just found you half-naked in my best friend’s room. You have an ethical duty to her – to all of us – that you are failing right now. Given your position, _can you call this consensual?_ ”

“I’m a grown woman, Travis,” Vic interjected angrily.

“And he’s your boss,” Travis held up a hand. “Not just your boss. Your boss’ boss’ boss. Who is much older than you. And we established, was able to manipulate Bishop into admitting Gibson would make a good captain – so of _course_ I’m worried that you’ve been dragged into this.”

“If I didn’t want him here he wouldn’t be,” Vic said firmly.

“I want to hear it from him,” Travis said angrily, looking back at Ripley who’d watched the two going back and forth in silence.

“I’ll take whatever she will give me, for as long as she wants,” Ripley said softly, eyes fixed to Travis’. “And if she wants me to walk away at any point, I will and I will make sure there’s no repercussions.”

“Simple as that?” Vic’s voice also had an odd note.

“I didn’t say it would be easy,” Ripley was hard to read, but slowly Travis was realising that the odd tone that had tinged most of his words was uncertainty and a kind of odd hopeful desperation. “I mean, I’m not exactly without an agenda here.”

“Agenda?” Travis asked sharply, but Ripley was looking at Vic like she was the only person in the world.

“I want you, Victoria,” he said quietly. “If that’s not what you want, fine, of course I’ll walk away. But I’d _really_ prefer not to. And I’ll be horrendously jealous of the next guy.”

And suddenly, for the first time, Travis felt like an intruder, as he watched Vic’s gaze flicker to Ripley’s lips and back up to his eyes.

“I’m not thinking of a ‘next guy’, Luke, but this is such a _mess_ ,” she said quietly, moving closer.

“I don’t know, it seems to be going okay?” he replied uncertainly.

“Work, you idiot,” she said, in exasperation.

“Don’t worry about my job,” he said.

“Don’t give me that, Mr Youngest Chief Ever,” she snapped.

“Victoria, seriously. Look, will I get into trouble? Yes. Will you? Yes. Will you get fired? Definitely not. Will I? I really doubt it,” he said. “I’ve got good statistics. There isn’t a bunch of skeletons hidden in my cupboard. You consented. I’ve not been involved in any promotional or disciplinary actions for you _or_ any of your immediate coworkers. We’ve not worked a major scene together since. So while I’ll get in trouble for not declaring this sooner, I probably won’t lose my job.”

“Probably,” she sighed.

“Nothing’s for sure.” There was a pause, and Ripley shrugged. “So it’s up to you.”

“Just force the ball back to me,” Vic said waspishly.

“Vic, you know full well that it is up to you,” Ripley said, taking a deep breath in. “It has to be. I’ve said where I stand.”

“So?” Travis interjected, and Vic looked over.

“She doesn’t have to decide right now on the spot,” Ripley defended.

“ _She_ can talk for herself,” Vic said. There was a long silence and Travis raised his eyebrows meaningfully as the colour slowly drained out of Ripley’s face.

[Despite himself, Travis felt a little twinge of sympathy for Ripley. The Chief had pretty much just told Vic he was in love with her and would follow her lead no matter what, and now he was being subjected to his best friend’s commitment issues].

[Commitment issues that, in light of a five month relationship with his belongings clearly strewn through her apartment, seemed ridiculous].

Suddenly, there was a knocking at the door.

“ _That_ will be the pizza,” Vic said in obvious relief, darting past Travis without glancing back at Ripley who sighed heavily and made to go after her.

“I don’t care that you’re my boss several times over,” Travis said, grabbing the taller man’s sleeve. “If you hurt her I will make you regret so many things.”

“Hurting her is the last thing I want to do, I promise, Montgomery,” Ripley said, and again, Travis felt a twinge of sympathy for him. He tried to not let it show as he gave a stiff nod.

“Good,” he replied. “Make sure it doesn’t happen.”

As the two men exited the bedroom (having awkwardly paused in the door both trying to let the other go through first) they found Vic placing two pizza boxes on the table.

“Dinner?” she asked in a subdued voice.

Ripley sighed next to Travis and nodded. “I need a drink,” he said. “Vic? Montgomery?”

“Please,” Vic said immediately and Travis echoed his agreement.

A few minutes later, and Travis was sitting at the weirdest dinner he could remember.

“So if we go to HR, that’s it, everyone knows?” Vic asked, staring at the pizza in front of her.

“Not necessarily,” Ripley said evenly. “At a minimum, Sullivan and Frankel, as well as several people in HR. If no one in your team knows, they don’t have to get involved. Montgomery obviously would be interviewed as well, now.”

“And Gibson,” Vic said quickly before taking a big bite of her pizza.

“ _Gibson_?!” Travis felt like he was getting beyond surprise at this point. “You told _Gibson_ and not _me_?!”

“No I didn’t tell Gibson,” Vic rolled her eyes. “He worked it out.”

“Obviously, people talk, though,” Ripley continued calmly. “That would be the minimum who would know but realistically, it’ll make its way around eventually. You know how firefighters gossip.”

“It’s just – Luke, this is a big deal,” she said. He simply nodded.

“I don’t think it is,” Travis replied, and two heads looked towards him in surprise. “It can be as simple as do you want him to walk out the door? If not, then you need to talk to HR. I’m of a mind to talk to them anyway, so if you break up with him your career can’t be destroyed.”

“How is that simple?!” Vic exclaimed.

“Let me make this very clear,” Travis said, glaring at Ripley. “I do not approve of or condone this stupid idea in any way. I do not like this. I am _very_ offended that you kept this from me. And to some extent, I don’t care whether you stay together or not – what I want is for you to be happy and safe despite your terrible taste in men. I will protect your career, even if you won’t.”

Several minutes passed in silence, Ripley eating his food with a single minded focus, seemingly afraid to look at Vic.

“I don’t want you to walk out,” she said eventually, with a sigh, looking up. Ripley’s gaze snapped to hers, and a small smile spread slowly across his lips. “Let’s do it.”

“You don’t have to decide now,” he assured her.

“No, let’s do it,” Vic said, shaking her head. “I don’t want to second guess myself even more. Call them.”

“You sure?” Ripley checked again, and Vic nodded.

“It’s a Sunday, HR won’t be there,” Travis said in confusion, but Ripley had already pulled out his phone.

“They will be for me,” he said matter-of-factly, dialling someone. “Jim? Lucas Ripley here. Sorry to call you on a weekend, but I’ll need to talk to you tomorrow. Yeah. Yeah it is kind of urgent. No. No you won’t like it. Yes, a lawyer’s a good idea. Jess would be my preference. Yeah I know. Thanks. 0900 it is. See you then, sorry to interrupt your evening. Thanks again. Bye.”

Vic let out a large, shaky breath as Ripley hung up and he reached immediately across the table to grasp her hand.

“It’ll be okay,” he promised. She nodded, smiling weakly at him.

They finished their dinner in relative silence, but some of the tension had slowly drained away.

“Anyway, Travis, you came for something completely different?” Vic asked, clearing away the pizza boxes. Travis hesitated, and couldn’t help but appreciate how Ripley picked up on it.

“Might read a bit in our- in the room,” he said, jerking his thumb towards her bedroom. She nodded, and he wandered away, grabbing a book from the coffee table on the way.

“Michael’s ring,” Travis said, taking a deep breath. "Should I stop wearing it?"


	7. Meredith Grey's Agony Aunt Session

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meredith & Lucas.
> 
> I actually don't watch Grey's Anatomy. I've seen one or two episodes, that's it, so my characterisation of Meredith is based solely on my recollection of her and a couple of quick clips I've watched to try and get an idea of her.

“Hey,” he looked relieved to see her, and, really, Meredith couldn’t blame him given that she had cancelled at literally the last minute the first time they’d organised to meet, and had had to leave before even ordering the second time.

“Hey yourself,” she replied, kissing him on the cheek. “Sorry for the late notice but I figured if you were free we should take advantage of the fact my afternoon list got cancelled.”

“I totally understand,” Lucas said easily, and the two of them joined the coffee queue. “And thanks, I appreciate you meeting up with me.”

“Well, it’s been a while since we’ve caught up,” Meredith replied. “And you seemed a little – I don’t know – not quite yourself.”

“I really need your advice,” he said.

“So you’ve said,” she raised her eyebrows. He gestured to the counter, however.

“Let’s order then talk.”

It wasn’t like Lucas to be anything but direct, but Meredith followed his lead. They’d known each other for over a decade, having met at work over a patient he’d brought in, and had gone on a couple of dates shortly after he’d gotten officially divorced. While she had liked the handsome firefighter captain, the truth was that they were both too dedicated to their jobs (and she was far too in love with Derek) to make it work.

They’d remained friends, however – albeit friends that didn’t see each other too often. It was often refreshing to speak to him as he wasn’t involved in the politics at Grey Sloan at all, nor was he ‘medical’ in a strict sense. While as a paramedic he could understand what she was talking about, his passion had always lain with the firefighting aspect of his job.

“I guess I should say that this is a bit of a personal question and it’s okay if you don’t want to answer it,” he said, twisting a packet of sugar uncertainly as they sat down at a small table in the corner of the café.

“Well, that doesn’t make me nervous at all,” Meredith tried to joke. He gave a half-smile.

“So, um,” he began with a stammer. “I’ve been seeing someone. She’s … well… she’s a junior firefighter. No rank. I guess it’s sort of like an attending seeing a resident. I’m just – I know when you met Derek you were an intern and he was your boss and I was just wondering if you have any advice on how to  - well how to not screw this up.”

He looked up, meeting her eyes uncertainly.

Meredith couldn’t help but laugh. “It’s not you,” she hurried to assure him as he sat back, looking a little hurt. “It’s just…well…yes, Derek was an attending and I was an intern, but also I’ve kind of just started seeing a resident.”

Lucas quirked his lips into a smile.

“You’ve been on both sides then,” he commented.

“Yeah,” Meredith said ruefully. “I mean, can you be more specific with what you’re asking?”

He sighed. “I _really_ like her. We’ve been seeing each other for a few months, but it’s kind of secret. I want us to be …I want more than sneaking around and spending most of our time at hers because we can’t go out in case we run into someone.”

“And she doesn’t want to?”

“She changes the topic every time I try to bring it up.”

Meredith paused as a waiter brought their coffees to them.

“Thanks,” she said absently, bringing the cup to her lips. “Look, I mean, she has more to lose than you do. Men in power tend to stay there. She’s in a vulnerable position – if this doesn’t work out for her, her whole career might be affected.” She hesitated, but Lucas had never minded her being blunt before. “Besides, no offence, but from her point of view, what are _you_ hoping to get out of this relationship? You’ve been divorced twice already, and both times that was because you were more interested in your job than you’ve ever been in a woman. How is this going to be any different?”

Lucas sat back in his chair, sipping his own coffee thoughtfully. “I mean, it’s early days,” he said quickly. “But I don’t know. I’m older than I was – it’s in retrospect that I realise just how young I was when I was married – got married in my twenties both times. I think I was a lot more self-absorbed, and you know, with my career I felt like I was racing other people’s expectations and my own, trying to get to that next level to do more. Now I’m here, and it’s like, I can sit and focus on what I think is important to push through and it’s not quite as much about proving myself as it is about just getting the job done.”

Meredith raised her eyebrows. “That’s a pretty good answer,” she remarked. “But you know, that’s not something that she’s necessarily going to see.”

“Should I say that to her?” his brow furrowed.

“Probably not, not unless she asks you,” Meredith said after a moment. “If Derek had said that to me only months in it would’ve scared me right off. Your – what’s her name?”

“Victoria,” Lucas admitted quietly, and Meredith rolled her eyes at the small smile playing on his lips.

“Your Victoria might be different, though,” she allowed.

He sighed. “What do you suggest?”

“Take things at her pace, even if it’s slow. Listen to her,” she said, inwardly rolling her eyes. _Men_. Even the nice ones were idiots. “How does this play job wise? I mean – she might be in dangerous situations and you might be in charge, right?”

“That’s one of the reasons I want to tell people,” Lucas admitted. “It means talking to HR but I think…I don’t think I’m safe to do my job if she’s there. My objectivity –“ he cleared his throat. “I can’t be objective about her.”

“Ah,” Meredith wasn’t quite sure what to say to that. “And she doesn’t want to go to  HR?”

“We’ll be in trouble,” he admitted. “At the very least, reprimands. I might get worse.”

“Would you lose your job?” Meredith asked in concern.

“I don’t think so,” Lucas said, but without a great deal of confidence. “The longer we wait the less sure I am about that.”

“And the higher the chance of you being put in an awkward position.” He nodded.

“I don’t know about that, Lucas. I don’t have an answer there. But I don’t think it changes what you can do – you certainly can’t make such a big decision unilaterally on her behalf.”

Lucas nodded. “I thought you’d say that. So just…shut up and be grateful?”

“Pretty much.”

"Fat lot of help you are," Lucas muttered good-naturedly, and Meredith laughed. They sat in companionable silence for a while before he asked, waggling his eyebrows, "so you and your resident?"

Meredith sighed. “I know. It's complicated – tell me again why we didn’t fall in love with each other?”

Lucas laughed. “Would’ve been so much simpler,” he agreed. "But as I recall, we went on like, one date in the six weeks we were 'dating' because either you had work or I had work."

"That's right," Meredith scrunched up her face. "And we don't really have that...vibe?"

"Not at all," Lucas said. "I think you remind me too much of my sister, Kylie."

"It's not like I have a brother, but I'm not at all interested in you; maybe it's because it would be too simple."

"To bad romantic decisions," Lucas lifted his mug in a mock toast.

"And the hearts that make them without consultation," Meredith lifted her mug back.

 


End file.
